


3 times Dean doesn't, and 1 time he does

by deanc0ded



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, i have no idea what else to tag this as, kinda? like relatively speaking, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanc0ded/pseuds/deanc0ded
Summary: Dean tries very,veryhard to control himself. Spoiler alert: he can't. (Or rather, he won't.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	3 times Dean doesn't, and 1 time he does

**Author's Note:**

> do people even write 3 times, 1 time fics anymore? i dont know. but im sure going to. also human!cas. dean never kicked him out of the bunker because i said so! that's too much pain and i never ever watch that scene in my rewatches of spn.

The first time, they're on a case. Some cut and dry salt-and-burn in rural Missouri. It's Cas' first case since becoming human. They pull into the only motel in the town, and book a room for the night. Only problem is, they only have singles left. Well, whatever. He can do this, right? He's shared beds with Sammy before when this has happened. Sam's a kicker, so Dean just hopes that Cas isn't. 

Dean takes the room key and heads off in the direction of the room they booked. He steps inside and lets his bag hit the floor with a heavy _thunk._ The room certainly isn't the worst he's ever seen. There's the bed, a small bedside table with a lamp, and a table and chairs near the window. There's a TV across the room from the bed, so they could lay there and watch it if they wanted. The wallpaper fucking sucks, it has pink and yellow flowers scattered about it with a blue and white striped background. The colors clash, the patterns clash, and it's just _bad._

The air in the room feels thin, like he can't get enough in his lungs. Like someone has sucked all the oxygen straight out of the universe. The bed isn't even a Queen, it's a fucking _Full._ Dean's chest feels tight. He's going to be entirely too close to Cas, the constant urge to touch him is going to be stronger than it's ever been.

Dean runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Right, well, dibs on first shower. I'll be fast. Don't sit on the bed all dirty. We both have to sleep there," he grumbles, walking past Cas and toward the bathroom. 

"I can sleep on the floor, Dean. I don't mind," Cas offers with a smile. God, he looks so fucking _human._ All of his features somehow softened when he Fell. Even the way he carries himself is different, now. Like he feels... smaller. And he probably does, Dean supposes. Going from Angel of the Lord to puny little human probably _would_ make a guy feel small. Dean feels a pang in his chest and he wants nothing more than to wrap Cas in his arms and keep him safe, protect him from anything and everything that could ever bring him harm. Which was basically everything, now. 

"What? No way, man. I mean, I'll sleep on the floor if you don't wanna share. But you aren't." It's a statement, and Dean isn't going to argue about it. He's not gonna let Cas' back get fucked up even worse than it inevitably will on the shitty motel mattress. Dean's slept on his fair share of dirty-ass motel room floors. It wouldn't bother him. Well, it would, but not the sleeping on the floor part. The part that would bother him would be Cas not wanting to share the bed. He feels like a fucking teenage girl with all his stupid little feelings threatening to spill out of his mouth, every second of every day. 

"No, Dean. We can share," is all Cas offers before unzipping his hoodie which is covered in dirt from gravedigging. He throws it over onto the table by the window. He sighs as he sags into the chair at the table, listening to Dean and not sitting down on the bed, no matter how bad he looks like he might want to. 

There's that fucking pang in Dean's chest again. Fuck. "You know what, buddy, why don't you take the first shower? All that dirt has to be uncomfortable, man." He offers a shy smile. When the fuck did he go soft?

"Dean, you're covered in more dirt than I am." 

Yeah, Dean can't argue with that. Now that Cas doesn't have his Angel Strength, he can't do as much heavy lifting as he used to be able to. Now he just has the body of the accountant Jimmy Novak, who wasn't necessarily scrawny but definitely didn't have the type of strength it takes to dig graves with relative ease. "Yeah, man. I know, but I'm used to it. It probably blows for you. Go get clean, man. You'll feel better." Dean walks away from the bathroom and back toward the table to plop down across from Cas. 

"Thank you, Dean. You're very generous," Cas says, his eyes cast downward. Dean desperately wants to just pull him into the bathroom, take all his clothes off, and hop in the shower right along with him. But he can't do that, he can't have that. Can't let Cas know, because these feelings were just a weakness. Something to be used against both of them by their long (and always growing) list of enemies. 

"It's no deal. Just don't use all the hot water," Dean says, reaching across the table to clap Cas on his bicep once, before leaning back against the creaky old motel room chair. 

Cas just nods gratefully and stands up from his seat, heading toward the bathroom. 

As soon as Cas closes the door, Dean folds his arms on top of the table and rests his head on them. He's so fucking whipped for this angel-turned-human, he could just die. He almost wishes he would. Sammy was the most important person in Dean's life, but he'd never give up the first shower for him. _Especially_ after calling dibs. He's fucked. 

He must have drifted out of consciousness, because the next thing he knows, he's jerking his head up at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Cas is standing there with a towel hung almost too low on his hips, and it takes every ounce of strength inside of Dean not to whine. And he almost does it, anyways. Cas looks so fucking _good._ Dean knows he's staring, but at the moment he cannot bring himself to give a fuck. This is the most of Cas he's ever seen, and he's shocked. Shocked at how tan his body is. How toned he is, and (once again) how _small_ he looks. Dean really wants to just scoop him up and put him in his pocket for safekeeping. \

Cas clears his throat as his cheeks heat up. "I- I uh," he stutters, and it's actually the first time Dean has ever heard him do that, "I forgot my. My uh, my bag. I forgot to bring it in the bathroom with me. Sorry," he apologizes, his face growing redder as Dean's eyes follow him through the dimly lit motel room. 

Dean eventually shakes himself out of it, clearing his own throat. "Yeah, man. No problem, I do it all the time."

Cas nods and all but scurries back into the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft _click._ Dean knows he won't be long, probably just long enough to pull on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, both of which Dean had loaned him. He's a little scared of the effect Cas wearing his clothes might have on him. 

Sure enough, Cas walks out of the bathroom wearing his clothes, and Dean's whole body suddenly feels hot. Somehow hotter than it felt seeing Cas in nothing but a towel. Something about Cas wearing his clothes just feel so domestic, makes him able to fool himself for a millisecond that this is something he could have. He shakes those thoughts off as soon as he thinks them, knowing that his feelings would just be used as a weapon. 

Dean takes a calculated risk and leaves his own bag next to the door where he'd plopped it down when he walked in. He would get to gauge Cas' reaction to his bare chest, and hopefully make Cas feel less embarrassed about forgetting his own bag in the process. "Back in a jiffy," he winks, and why the _fuck_ did he wink? Whatever. 

The mirror is already foggy as he steps into the bathroom, and there are still remnants of steam from Cas' shower. Dean sighs as he pulls off his grimy clothes, leaving them in a heap in the corner of the room, where Cas had left his. He turns on the water as hot as it'll go, sticking his hand under the water to check both the pressure and temperature before stepping in. Both are alright. 

Dean takes his time washing himself and making sure he's squeaky clean. He hates when he gets out of the shower and realizes he's rushed, and he's left dirt behind. He doesn't feel like having to do this again in the morning. Once he's sure there's no more dirt to wash down the drain, he stares down at his half-hard dick. He figures that if he takes care of this now, there's a slightly smaller chance he'll wake up next to his best friend with a boner. 

He doesn't take his time with this part. He just wants to get it over with. This isn't out of pleasure, it's out of necessity. He comes, watches it go down the drain, and turns the water off. He grabs a towel off the rack and dries himself quickly, toweling his hair last. It sticks in all directions, he's sure. He really doesn't care. 

Dean wraps the towel around his own waist and wipes some of the fog off the mirror to look at himself. "You can do this, Winchester," he mumbles under his breath. He inhales sharply and exhales slowly as he turns the knob on the bathroom door before swinging it open. 

He instantly feels guilty, because Cas' head snaps up from where it had been resting on the pillow. He'd fallen asleep, bless his heart. Dean offers him an apologetic smile, "Oh, sorry, Cas. Didn't mean to wake you. I forgot my bag, too. Told you it happens." 

"It's alright, Dean," Cas says, propping himself up on his elbows to watch Dean cross the room, much like Dean had done to him only minutes later. He feels kinda bad for doing it, if Cas had felt half as exposed as he does now. Which is very. Very exposed. 

Dean makes quick work of getting back to the bathroom and putting on his clothes. He decides to leave his sweatpants off. The motel room was pretty warm, and he was going to have the added heat of another body in the bed next to him. He almost doesn't put a shirt on either, but decides that's probably too obvious. 

He opens the bathroom door and flips the lightswitch off. He sits down on the bed next to Cas and rolls his shoulders, wincing when his skin tugs in the wrong way because of a cut on his bicep. He scowls down at it, the damn ghost had shattered a window and sent shards flying everywhere, and one had swiped him. It wasn't deep, he didn't need stitches, but it still stung annoyingly. Luckily, none of the shards had hit Cas. 

Cas hovers a hand over the cut, and Dean turns to look at him with sad eyes. He's met with even sadder ones. "I forgot," Cas says in a whisper, lowering his hand and feeling like an idiot. 

Dean sighs and swings his legs up into the bed and gets under the covers with Cas. He turns off the light and lays down facing him, on the arm that isn't cut. "It's okay, Cas. It's nothin', barely even a scrape. It'll heal in a day or two." Their faces are close, Dean can tell. The only indication is Cas' warm breath hitting his face, but it's comforting. It's so nice, and it hurts so, _so_ good. It would take next to no effort to lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, but Dean doesn't. He can't. Won't.

"I know, but I could heal it _now,_ if I was still an angel," Cas says, and Dean's heart shatters. He wants to scoop Cas into his arms, hold his face, and tell him everything will be okay. He settles for resting one of his hands on top of Cas', where it rests in the small space between them in the bed. 

"I'm so sorry, Cas. I know this has gotta be hard for you, man. I wish I could make it easier on you, somehow," Dean sighs, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. Butterflies. He hates that term, really. It feels more like a massive school of fish, all thrashing around inside his stomach acid and flopping against each other. They're packed in there tight with no room to actually swim, only squirm and twitch. 

"You do," Cas says, and it's this sad, broken whisper that cracks Dean's ribcage wide open. He squeezes Cas' hand, because he can't do nothing, but he can't do _something,_ either. No matter how badly he wants to. 

"I'm glad," he whispers, just as soft but only slightly less broken. "Get some sleep, buddy. We'll go home in the morning."

Cas just nods and squeezes his hand before turning over, facing away from Dean. 

Dean would turn over, too, if it wasn't for the gash on his other arm. He opts to just stare at the back of Cas' head in the dim light of the motel room until he drifts off into a dreamless sleep, his chest aching in a way it never has before.

* * *

The second time is about 2 weeks after the first, and they're back at home in the bunker. Living with Cas is proving to be quite a feat for Dean. Seeing him walk around with his messy, unkempt, slept-on hair all the time was making Dean weak in the knees. Not to mention, they still hadn't gotten around to buying Cas clothes of his own, so he was just borrowing things from Sam and Dean. Usually Dean, though, which Dean certainly took note of. 

He knows that Cas is probably only borrowing his clothes more because they fit him better, since Sam's a fucking giant. Dean tries not to think about this, he just wants to believe that Cas likes the way he smells, or some stupid shit. 

They're sitting in the Dean-Cave, and they've split a six-pack of Cas' favorite beer. Dean actually hates it, it's some hipster shit, but he puts up with it because Cas really seems to enjoy it. They're just marathoning movies, taking turns picking the movies. 

Dean almost always picks a Western, and Cas always picks a rom-com or something animated. Right now, it's Cas' turn, and he's just chosen _About Time,_ starring Rachel McAdams, so Dean doesn't even bitch too much about it. 

The movie is actually pretty good, from what Dean can tell. He's fading in and out of consciousness. He isn't drunk off of three beers, but he's comfortably tipsy and his limbs buzz with it, lulling him to sleep. He makes it about halfway through the movie before he's slumping over toward Cas, and he doesn't have it in himself to make an effort to slump away from him instead. It would be just as easy and only slightly less comfortable to do so, but he doesn't want to. He takes what little he can get from Cas. 

They're always touching each other. A shoulder squeeze here, a hair tousle there. Cas always gets closer to him than strictly necessary when they brush past each other, or when they sit on the same side of a booth in a diner. They're just small, meaningless touches. Meaningless to Cas, Dean assumes. His own stomach does backflips every time Cas so much as _looks_ at him. He shoves it down, down, down, deeper and deeper until he can tolerate being in Cas' proximity. 

But now, as he sits next to Cas with one of the most sickeningly sweet movies he's ever seen playing on the TV, he can't help himself. He won't do anything else, he tells himself. And he doesn't. But this? Slouching over into Cas' space with the excuse of sleepiness and drunkenness? He can do this. He can let this slide. 

Even when his eyes peel open every few minutes, he doesn't give any indication or make any moves to stop crowding Cas. His head is tilted over onto Cas' shoulder, and his upper body leans into him fully. They're touching from their shoulders down to their hips. The only reason their thighs aren't pressed together is because Cas has his legs kicked out and his ankles crossed in front of him, angling his thigh away from Dean's. It makes Dean a little sad, but it's okay. He's content with what he's got. 

Cas must assume he's fully asleep and that he has been for a while, because he doesn't move to stand up when the credits start to roll. He just reaches his hand over to the top of Dean's head, running his fingers through his hair with a sad sigh. Dean allows himself to push a little further then, toeing the line. He knows he shouldn't. He just doesn't care right now, he can't.

Dean presses closer yet to Cas, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and letting one arm drape over the top of Cas' legs. His heart is pounding, but he forces himself to keep breathing at a steady pace. He needs Cas to believe he's still asleep, that all of this is unconscious because he's _Dean,_ and he's disgustingly touch-starved. Dean knows that Sam and Cas have both noticed that he doesn't go out to bars to pick up chicks anymore. They both know he's certainly never brought anyone home. Sure, he misses sex sometimes, but mostly what he misses is _this._ Someone to scratch at his scalp as he lets sleep consume him. 

Cas drops a feather-light kiss to his head, and Dean stops breathing. He goes completely still, like if he doesn't move, maybe the moment won't shatter. Maybe if he stays still, he can live right here in this moment forever. Cas obviously notices Dean go still, because he does the same thing. 

Neither of them move away from the other. 

"Dean? You awake?" Cas asks, quiet enough that if Dean _had_ been asleep, it wouldn't have woken him. 

"Mhm," Dean manages, allowing himself to breathe again. Cas' hand is still scratching gently at his scalp, and before he can think not to, he's leaning into the touch for just a moment. 

After that, he sighs and sits up next to Cas. "Good movie," he says, deflecting. "The parts that I saw, anyways. Not a terrible pick."

"I'll have to make you watch it when you're sober. It's a beautiful film, Dean. One of my favorites." Cas smiles at him and tries not to look sad, but Dean knows that look. He's seen it on the faces of many women over the years. It's the look they all give him when he promises that he'll call, but they both know he won't. Like they're sad, but they've already accepted their fate. 

"Yeah, buddy. I'd like that," Dean smiles back at him, standing up from the couch. He could really use something stronger than beer right now. Not his brightest idea, admittedly, but he's already up. "Be right back. We're watching Tombstone."

"We already watched that last week, Dean," Cas complains, but he's standing up to pop the DVD in anyways. 

"It's a classic!" Dean yells over his shoulder, making his way into the kitchen. He grabs a random bottle of whiskey and holds it by the neck as he walks back to the Dean-Cave. 

He plops down next to Cas again, intentionally sitting closer to him than he had been before. He unscrews the cap of the whiskey and tilts the bottle up, taking a long swig. It burns down his throat and blooms through his chest and stomach. Dean loves that burn, loves how it numbs him from the inside out. He offers the bottle to Cas who takes it without hesitation. This is a recipe for disaster. 

Cas makes fun of the characters all the way through the movie, repeating lines in his best impressions. "I'm your huckleberry," he rasps, laughing and taking another swig. They're both decently drunk and ridiculously close to each other. They're laughing and sharing glances, 'eyefucking,' as Sam would say. Dean's fine with it. Loves it, actually. He wants anything and everything he can get from Cas without actually crossing a line. He just likes to run up to the line, full speed, and teeter there until he eventually falls backward again. 

After a particularly terrible impression from Cas, they're both laughing harder than they have in weeks, maybe months. As their laughter dies down, they keep their eyes locked. Dean is suddenly aware of their position, and how absurd it is. What would Sam think if he walked in right now? Dean's legs are swung over Cas' lap, and he's got one arm thrown around his shoulders. One of Cas' hands rests on top of his thigh, the other one snaked between the couch and Dean's waist, pressing into the middle of his back. 

Their laughter subsides completely, and their faces are close. Like, _really_ close. Dean swallows and his lips flicker down to Cas' lips. Cas notices, and he does the same thing. Dean feels like he might throw up, or start crying, or maybe both. At the same time. Cas' hand has moved now, and it's cupping the side of his neck. He brings Dean forward until their foreheads are touching. They are standing _directly_ on top of the line. 

Dean closes his eyes as their foreheads rest against each other. He knows that Cas won't make the next move, that he'll wait for Dean to do it. And Dean knows that he won't. He just nudges his nose against Cas' and brings his hand to the back of Cas' head. "We can't, sweetheart," his voice cracks as the name rolls off his tongue. 

Cas swallows - Dean hears it, doesn't see it - and presses forward. His breath smells like whiskey. Both of their breaths do. His lips just barely brush against Dean's as he speaks, "I know," his voice is shredded, even as a whisper. Dean's heart clenches in his chest. "We're drunk, it can't happen now. Not like this." 

Not like this? 

_Not like this._

"Not at all," Dean chokes out, and he finally musters up the strength to pull away. He grabs the sides of Cas' face with both hands and presses a kiss to his forehead, lingering for longer than he should've. 

With that, he swings his legs off of Cas' and stands from the couch. He can feel Cas' gaze on him through the back of his head as he wordlessly turns off the TV and walks out of the room, down the hall, to his bed. He locks the door, just to be sure Cas can't follow him in. 

They don't talk about it.

* * *

The third time is all Cas' doing. Dean can't be blamed for this one. 

Since the Dean-Cave fiasco, Cas has been touching him significantly less. To clarify, that means _'exactly not at all, not even a little.'_ Like, Cas literally goes out of his way _not_ to touch Dean. And if Dean manages to touch him, Cas jumps away like he's been burnt. 

The weird thing is that, other than not allowing Dean to touch him at all, Cas has been acting like everything is fine. He still jokes with him, still hangs out with him, and doesn't change his behavior at all. 

It's seriously driving Dean insane. He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to fix it. 

It all comes to a head when he and Cas are doing research for a case, and Sam leaves the Bunker for some fresh air and to get food. Dean walks behind Cas after grabbing a beer from the fridge, and touches his shoulder because he forgot for a second that Cas is fucking allergic to him now, or something. 

Of course, just like every time Dean has touched him for the last week and a half, Cas jerks away from him. 

Dean sighs, good and dramatic. He sits down across from Cas and sits his beer down on the table with more force than he should have. He laces his own fingers together, and opens his mouth. "Okay, Cas. What the fuck?" 

Cas is staring at him with wide eyes, like he might get up and run for the hills at any second. "What?" he asks, but Dean knows he's aware of what he's referring to. 

"You act like I'll give you a fucking disease if I so much as get too close to you," Dean grumbles, downing half his bottle of beer in one go. "Mind explaining that to me?"

 _"Me_ explain it to _you?"_ Cas asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "What the fuck are you on? It's gotta be something stronger than beer, Dean, because you're a lot of things. But an idiot is not one of them." Cas' tone is sharp and serious. It cuts straight through Dean and now he wishes he had just kept his fucking mouth shut. "Dean, you said..." and now Cas looks hurt, "You said 'not at all.' So I backed off." He offers an exasperated sigh and a shrug as he stands up to walk over to Dean. 

Cas pulls Dean's chair out from the table, grabs the collar of the shirt he's wearing, and heaves him up. Cas is staring into his eyes, their faces almost as close as they had been during their last movie night. "You want me to touch you, Dean?" he all but growls, his fists balled up as he holds tight. 

Dean's eyes are wide and he swallows, trying to form words. It's proving to be harder than it ever has been. "N-no. I mean, yes. _God,_ yes, Cas. But I- we can't." He casts his eyes toward the floor, flickering back up to meet Cas' every few seconds. He wants to disintegrate on the spot. If Dean turned to dust right now, he thinks it would probably be the best outcome for everyone. 

"And why the hell not?" Cas asks, jerking Dean closer to him, so their chests are pressed together. 

Dean can't get enough air. He feels like his chest is collapsing as his eyes start to water. Not from crying, he had just forgotten to blink this entire time. He finally does, and he shakes his head furiously. He grabs Cas' wrists and anchors himself, taking a couple of breaths. Cas seems to soften, if only a tiny bit. Dean thanks his lucky fucking stars for that. "Because, Cas. If I let myself have this, someone will use it against me. Against _us._ Someone will use you to get to me. You'll get hurt. You'll get hurt and it'll be _my fault,_ Cas, and I just can't take that. I can't lose you." 

Cas immediately releases his shirt collar, but doesn't step out of his space. Instead, he throws his arms around Dean's shoulders and hugs him. Tight. Like, so tight that Dean hears his back crack in a couple of different places. He isn't complaining, though, it felt good. And it feels good to be touching Cas again. They still haven't crossed the line. They were safe, right at the edge of it. 

Dean digs his face into the crook of Cas' neck, breathing him in. "Missed you, buddy," he whispers, his arms settling around Cas' waist. "Does this mean I can touch you without worrying about you acting like you've been scalded?" he half-jokes, and Cas squeezes him a little harder in response. 

"Yeah, Dean. It's okay." Cas says, and pulls back. Their faces linger too close to each other for too long, and Dean can feel his heartbeat kicking up again. He's sure his entire face goes red when Cas leans in to press a prickly kiss to his cheek. 

"You gotta shave, man. You're all scratchy," Dean gives him the first genuine smile he has since Cas stopped touching him, and sits back down to get back to researching. 

He and Cas play footsie under the table until Sam comes back with food.

Okay, maybe it wasn't entirely Cas' doing.

* * *

The fourth time, the time that really matters, Sam has sent them out on a hunt together. 

Pretty simple, really, just a mini-nest of three vamps. They'd been outnumbered, but only by one. They'd expected to get a little banged up, but at the end of the day the job was done and they were both alive. 

Dean pulls into the first motel he spots, itching to get all the dried blood off his skin. They're both going to need a little patching up, so Dean grabs the first aid kit out of the trunk before heading inside. He slips the hotel clerk a few extra bucks not to mention the fact that they're covered in blood. There's a double this time, so they don't have to share. Dean feels both relieved and disappointed by this, somehow. 

"Don't put your shirt on right after you shower. Let me disinfect whatever wounds you have before you get dressed," Dean says. He's going to let Cas have the first shower again - he always does. "And be careful while you're in there, okay? They're gonna sting more than you think once you're under the water. Don't pick or scrub at them, just rinse them with water and I'll clean them for real when you're done." 

"Okay, Dean. Thank you," Cas smiles, curling his fingers around Dean's wrist for a moment before he heads for the bathroom. This is another one of those times where Dean wishes he could just hop in with him, he just wants to be clean. He doesn't even really have an ulterior motives for wanting to shower with Cas. He just wants this vamp stench off him, like, yesterday. 

"'Course, Cas." Dean says, and then the bathroom door is clicking shut. Dean takes off his top layer, a flannel that had been nearly sliced to shreds by the vamps. His t-shirt remained relatively in-tact, except in a place in the middle of his stomach, where he'd gotten sliced a little deeper than the rest. It still hasn't quit bleeding all the way, but Dean figures it will as soon as he can grab a shower, clean it out, and throw a bandage on it. No biggie. 

Dean flips through the limited TV channels that the motel has to offer for about ten minutes before Cas is poking his head out of the bathroom, ready for Dean to tend to him. He's wearing nothing but his boxers, and Dean really shouldn't be this excited about getting to clean his best friend's wounds. He's up off the shitty recliner in the opposite corner of the room in a split second, heading into the bathroom with the first aid kit tucked under his arm. 

Dean washes his hands up to his elbows, he isn't going to make Cas wait until he's had his shower to get bandaged up, but he doesn't want to get any dirt in them, either. He dries his hand on a clean towel. "Alright, buddy. Hop up on the counter and spread 'em," he winks, stepping into the space between Cas' legs as he obeys wordlessly. Dean looks over Cas' shoulder to see that his back is fine, nothing more than a couple of bruises. Nothing he'll have to do back there, at least. 

The worst of Cas' injuries is a long gash from the top of his left shoulder, down to the middle of his left pec. It's not too deep, but it definitely needs cleaned and bandaged. Dean takes a couple of gauze pads and pours some alcohol on them. He's got one hand resting on Cas' hip, holding onto the flesh there a little tighter than necessary. Come to think of it, his hand doesn't really need to be there at all, but he doesn't care right now. "This is alcohol, sweetheart, it's gonna sting. More than the water did," he says, his voice soft. His eyes flicker up to meet Cas' for a minute, who is just looking down at him and smiling. "You're awful smiley for a guy who just got his shit rocked by some vampires, Cas."

Cas laughs for a second, but it quickly turns into a hiss as Dean starts dabbing at his wound with an alcohol-soaked pad of gauze. Dean just shushes him and rubs slow circles into his hip absentmindedly. Cas frowns when he gets a glimpse at the blood seeping through Dean's shirt in the middle of his stomach. As Dean works at disinfecting his cut, he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it up just enough to see the gash across Dean's stomach, which was much worse than his own. "Dean, oh my God, you have to do something about that," Cas pleads, moving his hand to cup the side of Dean's neck. 

It makes Dean's breath hitch, and he looks up to meet Cas' eyes, which are full of worry. "I'm fine, Cas. I've had worse. Lemme take care of you," he says, leaning into Cas' touch. All he wants right now is to go slack against Cas, press their bodies together and then never let him go. Dean opts to tilt his head forward instead, his forehead resting on Cas' right collarbone as he continues dabbing at his shoulder and chest. 

Cas' hand is running through his hair, something he hasn't done for months. Dean is sure that he's fucked this time. He's missed this. He doesn't want it to stop. Eventually, though, he has to stop torturing Cas with the alcohol. He stands up straight again, but Cas' hand doesn't leave the back of his head. Dean feels dizzy with everything he's feeling for Cas right now. He wants to lean up and kiss him and never stop. Cas is just staring at him. Dean could get lost in those eyes. They're a little softer now, since he's become human. Dean still wants to drown himself in them.

Dean makes an attempt to deflect, "Gotta put some antibiotic cream on that and bandage it, then I think you're good, it's mostly bruises other than-" 

Cas cuts him off, laying both of his palms on either side of his face. "Dean." 

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean asks, playing dumb for as long as he can. His time's almost up. 

Cas slides off the counter into the very minimal space between them, and the tips of their noses touch. "Shut up," Cas breathes, and Dean exhales for what feels like the first time since he started patching Cas up. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Dean nods. "'M gonna kiss you, now," he mumbles, and that's that. 

They're kissing. Finally. After months of this stupid dance Dean had himself convinced he had to do. Dumbest fucking idea he's ever had. If anyone ever tried to lay a hand on Cas to get to him, well, he'd just have to rip them to shreds with his bare hands. 

They're kissing, and it's the best Dean has ever felt, despite the cut across his middle that's still oozing blood, even if it's slowly. He's pretty sure he's getting his blood on Cas' stomach, but neither of them really seem all that bothered by it. His lips are on Cas', and they're softer than they look. Cas' hands are pulling him closer by the back of his neck, and he's parting his lips. Dean presses his tongue inside Cas' mouth and tastes blood, and he's sure Cas is tasting the same thing. Dean feels a warmth blooming deep inside his chest. Cas had planted the seeds in his heart long ago, and they'd taken root so deep within him that Dean doesn't think they'll ever die. Cas has wormed his way into Dean's heart, and he'll reside there until they're both six feet under.

They stand there and kiss until they can't anymore, until they're both gasping for breath. The line has not only been crossed, it's been utterly obliterated. "I really do need to put some Neosporin on that, Cas," he says, his breathing still heavy and uneven. He opens his eyes to meet Cas', and he sees the brightest smile he's ever seen on anyone. 

"Okay, Dean. But when you're done, you have to let me help you with that," Cas says, gesturing to Dean's stomach. 

Dean nods and walks over to the shower to turn it on, pulling his shirt over his head. He turns back to Cas, "You're more than welcome to stay and watch the show, sweetheart," he jokes, but not really. He wouldn't protest at all to having Cas keep him company. 

"I think I will, actually. I don't want you passing out on me, what with how you've just been standing here _bleeding_ on me," Cas huffs, rolling his eyes affectionately. He does, however, turn his head to the opposite wall once Dean is out of his jeans. Dean's a little bit grateful for that. 

Dean laughs and steps into the shower, closing the curtain. "Okay, I'm hidden. You don't have to stare at the wall anymore," he says. 

Dean showers and they don't talk, they don't need to. He hums to himself after a few minutes, forgetting that he isn't alone for a second. Even when he remembers Cas' presence, he continues. Once his wounds have been rinsed and he's washed his hair, he turns the water off. He pokes his head out from the curtain and gives Cas a shit-eating grin. "I'm naked behind here, ya know?" 

Cas laughs at him and grabs him a towel. He holds it out to him, smiling right back at Dean. "That is generally how showers work, yes," he quips. 

Dean takes the towel and wraps it around his hips, tucking it into place. He steps out of the shower and into Cas' arms, kissing him deep and slow, because _he can do that, now._

Cas kisses him back if only for a moment, and then he pulls back. "Your turn. Up," he says, turning around and patting the surface of the bathroom counter. 

Dean hops up easily enough, hissing as Cas goes through the same motions they'd gone through earlier. Cas bandages him up, and he smiles. "Not bad for a first-timer," he says, leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

Cas rolls his eyes. "Put some clothes on. I'll be in bed, I'm exhausted." 

So, Dean does. He slips into a pair of sweatpants and decides against a shirt, following after Cas so quickly that Cas isn't even fully under the covers before he's turning off the bathroom light and heading to lay down next to Cas. 

"Guess we didn't need a double, after all, huh?" Dean asks, leaning forward to kiss Cas again as they lay together. 

Cas just hums into the kiss before he reaches to turn off the only light left in the room, the lamp next to the bed. They're plunged into darkness, and Dean lays down with one arm draped over Cas' middle. 

Dean's heart is racing too hard for him to immediately fall asleep, so he waits until he's sure that Cas is to whisper, "I love you," so quietly that he's not even sure if he heard himself. 

Apparently, Cas was just _really_ good at laying still without falling asleep, because he whispers an equally quiet, "I love you, too," into the darkness that surrounds them. 

Dean just presses a tiny bit closer to him after that, his heart swelling in his chest. "Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> i got really lazy there at the end i'm so sorry i worked on this for like 10 hours and i kept getting distracted and i just wanted to be done!!! n e ways i hope it wasn't too painful to read <3


End file.
